168 CLASSICAL MODERN POETRY. 



CHILDE HAROLD'S FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. 



Adieu, adieu ! My native shore 



Fades o'er the waters blue ; 

 The night winds sigh, the breakers roar, 



And shrieks the wild sea-mew. 

 Yon sun that sets upon the sea 



We follow in his flight ; 

 Farewell, awhile, to him and thee 



My native land ! Good night. 



A few short hours and he will rise 



To give the morrow birth, 

 And I shall hail the main and skies, 



But not my mother earth. 

 Deserted is my own good hall, 



Its hearth is desolate, 

 Wild weeds are gathering on the wall, 



My dog howls at the gate. 



And, now I'm in the world alone, 



.Upon the wide, wide sea: 

 But why should I for others groan, 



When none will sigh for me ? 

 Perchance my dog will whine in vain, 



Till fed by stranger hands ; 

 But long ere I come back again 



He'd tear me where he stands. 



With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go 



Athwart the foaming brine, 

 Nor care what land thou bear'st me to 



So not again to mine. 

 Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves, 



And when you fail my sight, 

 Welcome ye deserts and ye caves ! 



My native land Good night ! 



BTfRON. 



